


Star Wars Omorashi Dribbles

by ShadowsMadeByCandlelight (ToWriteByCandlelight)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Humiliation, Omorashi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Humiliation, read the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToWriteByCandlelight/pseuds/ShadowsMadeByCandlelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In case you didn't read the tags, THIS FIC CONTAINS OMORASHI.</p>
<p>IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, GO LOOK IT UP REAL QUICK.</p>
<p>...Alright, for those of us sick perverts who are left, I've had difficulty locating good Star Wars omo fics. So, I've decided to rectify this and simply write my own. More characters and tags will be added as I add stories, but know that the next story is Hux and like the next three are gonna be Luke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Wars Omorashi Dribbles

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoning from kylo-ren-pisses-himself. Go check out that Tumblr for amazing ideas (which might appear in later chapters) and headcanons from TFA!

Kylo’s been fighting, fighting, fighting for the Order, slashing, hacking, moving through the battlefield of the latest Resistance ambush with a grace that belies the dull throb in his lower abdomen. He’s been at this all day, no breaks, and he’s exhausted and dehydrated and starving but mostly he just wants to relieve himself. He trembles ever so slightly as he walks back to the shuttle, hands clenched in fists as he uses whatever strength he had left to just hold it in. Troopers part before him in waves, awed at the chaos he could cause, and the moment would’ve made him smirk under his helmet if he hadn’t- a choked gasp escapes, not audible to the scattered debris, because Kylo just leaked, he just felt urine seep into his underclothes and he wants to whimper at the pain of stopping the flow. But he holds his head up and his shoulders back and he clenches his muscles with everything he has against the flood. It works, long enough for a flight back to the Finalizer filled with agonizing throbbing and almost accidents. He can control this. He’s trained so hard; he can control a fiery blast from a laser cannon, surely he can control his own, pathetically weak body.

He’s sure he would’ve made it to his room before losing control. He could’ve, despite what Hux might say, he’s done it before, this isn’t the first time, but oh god every time just feels like the worst it’s ever been, the desperation building to solid throbbing pain sitting between his legs and he could make it stop whenever he wanted. That was the worst part, he realizes, looking back, that he could make it stop. This was no burn, or cut, or bruise, that he had to let heal, no, this was simply pride and social graces.

He steps off his ship, twenty minutes after that tiny leak at the destroyed Resistance base, and again Troopers on board part before him like waves as he sweeps by, smelling of sweat and death. Only one man doesn’t step down, and Kylo loathes him with all of his being at this very moment.

“Lord Ren,” General Hux greets sharply, every line of him tense for the fight that Kylo knows he expects. “You are to accompany me to an immediate debrief of your mission.” And Kylo knew it was coming, he knew the General wouldn’t forget, but this time he isn’t sure he could- He straightened. He could control himself, just as he always has.

“Of course, General.” Hux usually isn’t this lax about letting his emotions show, but surprise is written in his eyes and gone in a flash. Then again, Kylo usually isn’t this lax about giving in to Hux’s admittedly quite reasonable demands.

They sweep off to a conference room together, powerful tension rolling off of them in tangible waves. He somehow manages to sit through the debriefing, fidgeting ever so slightly. It’s still enough to call attention, and under Kylo’s mask his desperate eyes are locked onto Hux. The general knew, as he always did, exactly what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t sit still, and he could swear the triumphant gaze Hux wore hid something darker still under it. Kylo isn’t sure he wants to know what that darker thing was. He is the first to leave the room, gritting his teeth at the three second spurt of piss that comes when he stands. Hux materializes at his side, offering an escort to his room or some such nonsense. By this point he’s really truly not paying attention, all of it focused on not disgracing himself in front of everyone who ought to fear him. He is proud of himself for making it to his own corridor before Hux finally slams him against the wall. He knows what he wants, he’s practically projecting it for any Force-sensitive minds to see, and Kylo wildly thinks that he sees no point in denying it. It would make excellent blackmail later, and perhaps could play a hand in decreasing some of his own shame in a moment- no. He couldn't allow this, couldn't allow himself to justify his weakness, to submit to it.

“Hux, please,” he gasps, knees ready to give, hands flying unashamedly to his crotch to fight the urge. To resist. He would not lose control. He could not lose control. His helmet is closing in, breaths damp with sweat and he doesn’t want Hux to see him lose it and he can’t make himself care any more. It flies down the corridor, with a dull clang as it hits the floor and rolls.

“Don’t you dare make another mess on my ship, Ren,” Hux smirks, stepping forward into Kylo’s space. “You’ve already ruined three control panels with your tantrums, I won’t stand to have the floor slicked with your waste-”

All of it was lost on Kylo as he gasped out, once, squeezing himself as hard as he could to stop it, but… His urine quickly left trails of glistening wet down his thighs, pooling in his boots, soaking through his gloves, splashing loudly to the metal floor. He tries to bite back the little whimpers and gasps that come with relief he’s been waiting for all day, but apparently he’s lost the ability to hold anything back at all. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, as he sags against the wall. Piss still floods out of him, for a full two and a half minutes, before finally dribbling to a stop. His knees finally gave, and he slid down the wall into the puddle he had made, exhausted and shaking in body and mind. Tears trailed unbidden down his cheeks, from the relief, from the coming humiliation that he was doing his best to block for now-

“You pathetic excuse for a child,” Hux sneers, shattering the tentative bliss Kylo had wrapped himself in. “Unable to hold your own piss for twenty minutes. What would the Supreme Leader say, hmm, to see his prized disciple so utterly weak to his own animal functions? What would Solo think, of his excuse for a son-”

And he is angry, now, angry and hurt and humiliated, but oh how strong it makes him. Kylo is shattered, rage splintering around them, shards of his anger pinning Hux to the wall like so many daggers.

“Han Solo is dead,” he snarls, a damp hand closing tightly around the general’s throat, “just like his son.“ 

"I-is he?” Hux chokes out, that damnable smirk still clinging to his lips. Kylo backhands it, as hard as he could, leaving a smear of blood that was not theirs and a wet smack that makes something jerk against his thigh. He looks down.

“What have we here, General,” he asks, very softly, as Hux’s face floods with color. It disguises the handprint on his cheek nicely, and he struggles feebly on the wall. He laughs, once, letting Hux drop to the floor. It appears as though he is not the only disgrace in the corridor.

“What a shame; the First Order’s highest, succumbing to such… perversion.” Hux glares up at him, standing and straightening his jacket. It does little to hide the obvious bulge at his crotch, but Kylo understands the need for an illusion of control.

“Next time, Hux, I will not be so indulgent,” he murmurs, words ringing in their softness through the silence of the hallway. They don’t carry as much weight as he had hoped they would.

“Next time, Lord Ren?” Hux’s voice is raspy from Kylo’s chokehold, but the smug sense of superiority is rolling off of him once again.

“Yes, General. Next time.” Next time, it would not be Kylo whose pants stuck to his thighs, whose boots squished every step of the way to his room, whose face was streaked with dry tear tracks.

Next time, he promised himself, he would not be the one to lose control.

Next time.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, comments are love, kudos are life, both would be appreciated, all that jazz. Comment with any suggestions and ideas!


End file.
